Dirk is clinging to the shreds of his calm, struggling and failing to keep his poker face in place. He presses harder at his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, because otherwise he knows he's going to do something he'll regret. Something like start crying. The quiver in Bro's voice isn't helping him keep his cool, and neither is removing the shades. With Dirk's own shades not properly settled, it feels like he's completely exposed, and he can't look into Bro's eyes. He ignores the food and the fire whiskey both, how is he supposed to focus on food in the middle of a conversation like this?

The irony of it is, Dirk had never felt let down by Bro until learning of this lie. It hadn't mattered that he and Dave weren't raised by a mom and dad, because Bro had always taken care of him, even if he'd been tough. Everything Bro says hurts even more, because it's true, it is how he feels. And if Bro understands that, then why did he ever lie? If he feels so guilty and sorry for it, why did he make the decision in the first place?

He can't stop his hands from curling into fists, so tight that his nails dig crescents into his palms. He's had months to think this over, and yet somehow he can't talk about it without the emotions spilling over again, and this time, he can't just go on a trip to avoid the conversation.

"How the hell am I supposed to believe you any more?" he demands, voice cracking. "How am I ever supposed to know if you're telling me the truth any more?"